


going places

by stelgibson



Series: universe of msr [6]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Airplane Sex, F/M, Fluff, Its mostly fluff actually, Romantic Fluff, maybe chp 2 will be smut idk, or maybe there wont be a chp 2! who really knows, well... eventually i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelgibson/pseuds/stelgibson
Summary: all the times mulder and scully were running late to the airport and the one time it was okay // ficlet (i guess)
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: universe of msr [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909534
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40





	going places

**Author's Note:**

> hi no beta; but wanted to go more into msr + running late to flights and so, here we are. enjoy.

The first time they’re late to the airport, Scully’s annoyance radiates off her, from the furrow between her brows to her clenched fists. Her eye roll is epic, especially for 5 in the morning. He placates her with coffee he finessed from the flight attendants. She still keeps her nose up, glasses on, but by the next hour, they’re pouring over the file for the case together. 

The second time they’re late to the airport, Scully threatens to start driving separately from him.

“Just because you’re going to be late, doesn’t mean I want to be  _ running _ to the plane as it’s taking  _ off _ , Mulder.”

“Ah, c’mon Scully, it’s not that bad, we made it!”

He starts laughing her off, but her glare shuts him up real quick.  _ All righty. _

He puts her luggage up in the bin for her, and she huffs into her seat, adjusting her blazer, arms crossed, legs crossed. She likes getting there early so she can sit at the gate. Prepared. Coffee in hand. Not scrambling as the last people on the plane, getting stares as she storms in, him trailing like a lost puppy.

The third time they’re late to the airport, Scully punches him in the arm and he has to act surprised. He’s not good at apologizing, but the past few years have changed a couple things. He offers her the motel room further from the elevator and brings ice and sunflower seeds and cheap beer to her door. 

The fourth time they’re late to the airport, Scully is tired. Three autopsies, four different towns, and she just needs a bath. And ice cream. And her vibrator. She doesn’t care enough, or frankly, at all, about anything. Luckily it’s a return flight, so she says yes to the mini liquor bottle, and it ends up in her orange juice. The cocktail of her dreams. He copies her order, and they clink plastic cups halfway home. She’s buzzed enough to forget autopsy two and three, and instead thinks about how good Mulder would feel under her.

The eighth time they’re late to the airport, they run through terminals determined but giggling, past groups of families and people sitting at the bar at 2 pm, seeing who can run the fastest. They get to the gate out of breath, and sharing looks before they burst into laughter again as they hand their tickets over. They fall into their seats, disturbing the peace and quiet shuffling, oblivious they’re in a space with other people. She doesn’t care as much getting there late, but still teases him, her hand slipping on top of his.

“Mulder, you made us late again,” she murmurs into his ear, her fingers trailing to his thigh. She sees his swallow, eyes tracing from adam’s apple to mouth to eyes, her pink little tongue swiping across her lips.

“Yeah? But we made it, didn’t we?” Their faces are close, her fingers ghosting up, and he lets out a sharp breath, shifting in his seat as her mouth hovers beneath his jaw.

“Mulder?” she whispers, sickly sweet, with one small kiss to his cheek, “I think you need to apologize.” 

He tucks her hair behind her ear, recently short and his thumb trails back and forth along her cheek. 

“Later.”

He kisses her square on the lips, then gently on her cheek. She settles back in her seat, smile overtaking her face, heart warm. The couple in love, too self-absorbed for their own good. 

It’s a short flight thankfully, and she’s touchy, her hands fidgeting, landing on his arm, near his belt, streaks of red hair in his field of vision. Her head ends up on his shoulder, a small sigh escaping as they start descending. She holds his hand as they land, squeezing tight when the wheels touchdown.

When they land, she turns over to him, expression neutral and composed: “I believe you owe me an apology, Mulder.”

Her heels click ahead of him, and she’s making a beeline to the exit. Then she steals him inside the bathroom by his tie, whisked out of sight, the door locked promptly behind him. 

He backs her up to the door, and with his solemn face, “Scully, I am deeply sorry we’re late.”

“Mulder,” one kiss to his forehead, “shut up,” one kiss to his cheek, “and kiss me.”

Twenty five minutes later, two flushed and only slightly rumpled FBI agents make it out of the bathroom, smiles brighter than the sun. They are glowing, basking in each other, in this new love, this feeling of freedom and happy sighs.

And anyways, little does Mulder know, but the next time they’re late, they’ll end up in the airplane bathroom, too close but in an all too familiar stealing of each other’s personal space. Luckily, they’ve been practicing that for the past seven years. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey lmk what u think + i'll be forever grateful


End file.
